


Going through the motions

by kameo_chan



Category: Pet Shop of Horrors
Genre: Drabble, Gen, Humor, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-01-24
Updated: 2012-01-24
Packaged: 2017-10-30 01:46:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 726
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/326405
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kameo_chan/pseuds/kameo_chan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Leon once again finds himself in that damnable shop.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Going through the motions

He doesn't know why he does this each and every goddamned week. It's a Wednesday in the middle of the summer and he's hot as hell and sweating like a pig. Once again, Leon Orcot finds himself in front of Count D's Pet Shop. The bell chimes overhead when he enters and D's head pops out from behind the wingback of an ornately carved armchair. At the sight of Leon he rises graciously and meets him halfway across the foyer. 

"Mr. Detective! What an unexpected surprise!" D trills out merrily, and, if Leon hadn't known any better, he would've sworn there was a touch of devious glee to the Count's tone. So he grunts something in response and hands him a small package. "Ah! Mille-feuille? Oh my, Mr. Detective, you are too kind! D heads towards the back of the shop, fussing about the damn cake as far as he goes. Leon plops himself down on one of the couches without ceremony and waits for D to bring him a cup of too-sweet tea.

He takes a slice of the what-the-fuck-ever and eats it. It's not bad, but he had expected something... Better. Swankier, to say the very least. For the amount of dead presidents he'd forked over for four lousy slices, it should've been jewel-encrusted or something. But D waxes lyrical about things like taste and texture, and although Leon considers it to be serious overkill, it's most decidedly worth it to see D squirming around in sugar-induced ecstasy on that overstuffed pouf of his. They don't speak for a long time.

Only when D dabs daintily at his mouth with a handkerchief — Leon doesn’t consider himself a connoisseur of the finer things in life, but he’s pretty sure that tiny square of cloth is worth more than his entire monthly paycheck — and drains the last of his tea, only then do they talk. D politely inquires as to what brought him to the neighborhood and Leon lies, just like he always does.

"I was just passing through," he says and above the rim of his teacup, D gives him a knowing smile. They shoot the breeze for a good half hour or so, talking about inane things like the weather and a case that’s been driving Leon up the fucking wall, before he remembers that there's a little brother running around somewhere in the shop and asks D where Chris is.

"Ah, he and Pon-chan are playing with Phillipe again. If I had known you'd be coming, I'd have called him." This time it's Leon's turn to give D a skeptical look, and much to his surprise, the Count flushes the tiniest bit. "If you want -" D offers, extending a gracious, well-manicured hand as he makes to stand up.

"Don't," Leon interjects a bit too quickly and D sits down again. Suddenly there is an awkward silence between them; one where Leon can, for once, find no words and the Count seems hell-bent on studying the embroidered hem of his frock. To break the tension, Leon stretches his arms out behind him and catches D casting him a sidelong glance. More specifically, casting a sidelong glance at the way his shirt is riding up his stomach. When D notices him watching, he turns away and fiddles with the ear of his ornate china cup. His fingers are thin and delicate, kind of like a woman's and Leon wonders what they'd feel like, trailing down his —

He chokes on a stray cake crumb and D has to pour him another cup of tea and pat his back before he’s able to breathe again. He drains the tea in one gulp without looking at the other man, face red and breath coming in short pants. His goodbyes are hasty after that, and he leaves the shop before D even has the chance to see him to the door. As the bell chimes behind him again, Leon thinks he can hear a muffled sigh and a whispered something about being a sweet idiot. He huffs and thinks that D can go fuck himself. See if _he_ ever brings him some fancy-ass cake ever again.

The next week Wednesday it's raining cats and dogs as Leon dashes through the streets of Chinatown towards the pet shop. He doesn't know why he does this each and every goddamned week.


End file.
